Never too much

It had been touch and go whether we’d meet. A combination of industrial work issues raising their ugly heads, and allergies affecting the delicate sinuses of a particular evil, mean and rotten cat, had conspired to stop us from meeting.

However, meet we did. Conspire away, corrupt industry and evil dust. You’ll never take me alive!

******************************

It occurred to me, at one point, that I was losing my grip on reality. Which is fine in the context of a session. Slipping into subspace is, while not exactly de rigeur, certainly a desired effect. Purrrrvert loves watching me lose my usually demure and mature attitude as I dissolve into a small cuddly heap of ecstatically sighing happy kitty.

And i love having him watch as I do.

I remember lying on my front, facing away from him, as he relentlessly thrust his hand into me. Managing to hit both my G-spot and my clit simultaneously, I alternately sighed, moaned, yowled and screamed as he coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of me. It almost felt as though it was too much, but then as that thought began to flit across my mind, another peak hit. I shuddered to the most earth shattering climax yet, and wondered incredulously at myself.

How could it ever be too much?

“Turn yourself around, Tabby le Pink. Come and lie next to me.”

“Are you going to move your fist from inside me?”

“No.”

Which meant that turning around suddenly required a great deal of twisting and unsually balletic movements. I pride myself on my ability to execute the occasional vertical less-than-graceless dance movement, regardless of how I may appear as I perform it. But horizontally, all bets are off.

But I did it. He has that kind of effect on me.

He continued to tease and probe me incessantly to my sheer delight, except now he was looking into my eyes. Then he leaned forward and kissed me — tenderly at first, soft and sweet, then blossoming into levels of passion and excitement that excited me yet further.

How had I even considered thinking that it was too much? What was wrong with me?

Breaking from the kiss, he stroked my hair off my face as he gazed down at me lovingly.

I sighed happily, and reached up to kiss him again. He accepted the gesture lovingly. Appreciatively. I love kissing him. I love fucking him. I love everything about being with him, whether physically, spiritually or mentally.

I sighed.

“I love you too. So very much.” And he held me tightly.

A couple of nights later, I had an epiphany. I realised that I was being a fool to myself to focus on the negative things in life, when i had this wonderful, positive thing going on for me.